


Breaking Ground

by SpiritsFlame



Series: Bent Out Of Shape [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Lydia is amazing, M/M, Pro-Bending, boys are stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritsFlame/pseuds/SpiritsFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn’t really sure how he got roped into a pro-bending team, but the Dancing Dragons are a team on the rise. If they can beat the Alphas, and if Stiles crush on Alpha firebender Derek Hale doesn’t become a problem, they might actually have a chance of winning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lydia yanks her helmet off, her red ponytail spilling out as she shakes her hair free. 

“Alright team, that was a good practice today,” she says. “But I think that we can work a bit harder next time.”

Stiles, lying spread-eagled on the floor, panting for air, stares up at her incredulously. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Lydia gives him an impassive look. “The day we start settling is the day we start losing.”

“You’re insane,” Stiles pants, pulling himself to his feet.

“I dunno,” Allison chips in, cheerful as she had been when they first started, four hours ago. “I think I could use a little work on my water whip.” She mimes a whipping motion and some of the water from the nearby bucket splashes out half-heartedly and ends up over Stiles’ head. “Oops. Sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles tugs off his own helmet, water dripping onto his short hair. “I would be more upset, but that was actually very refreshing.”

Allison giggles, flicking her fingers and sending a few more large drops flying in his direction. He spreads his arms and lets them soak him. “Lydia?” Allison asks, holding up her hand in offering.

“I think not,” Lydia sniffs. “I will shower like a normal person.”

Stiles mimics ‘like a normal person’ behind her back, flipping his head like he has a mane of hair and throwing his shoulders back. Allison stifles a laugh behind her hand.

“I see you, Stiles,” Lydia says without turning around. She snaps her fingers and little balls of blue flame dance in front of his face. Stiles yelps and batts at them helplessly, but they evade his hands.

“Allison!” he calls. “Help me!”

Laughing almost too hard to be of any use, Allison flicks her arm out a little too hard and sends out a wave that drenches Stiles from head to toe, but at least puts out the sparks.

“Thanks,” Stiles says dryly, spitting a fountain of water out of his mouth. 

“No problem!” Allison grins.

“Ahem.” Someone clears their throat from the doorway. 

Stiles, occupied with shaking the water from his ears, doesn’t bother to look up. Lydia will handle it anyway.

“Yes?” she asks, as perfectly polite as ever.

“We have this space reserved now,” comes a deep baritone. 

“Oh, sorry!” Allison chips in. “We were just on our way out anyway.”

Having successfully gotten most of the water out of both ears, Stiles shakes his head hard to get most of it out of his short hair, then looks up to see who’s crashing their practice.

When he sees who it is, he really wishes that he’d just looked up to begin with, rather than taking the time to shake his head around like an idiot.

Standing in the doorway is Derek Hale and the other two Alpha’s, Pro-Bending Champions two-years running. 

“Yes, so I see.” That sarcastic voice must belong to Jackson Whittemore, master earthbender and all around douchebag. Stiles sizes him up. He certainly looks more the part more than Stiles does. He’s all big muscles to Stiles’ wiry sinew. 

Stiles takes in the arrogant tilt of his jaw and over confident glint in his eye. He’s pretty sure he could take Jackson. Well, maybe more on open ground. The arena, well, Stiles wouldn’t want to take him one on one. 

“Take your time, though,” their third member adds, eyes fixed unnervingly on Allison. This must be Scott McCall, their newest and greenest member. Allison ducks her head, using her hair to hide what Stiles knew would be a shy smile.

“Hey, Allie,” Stiles calls, overly casual because McCall’s unblinking stare is freaking him out, even if Allison didn’t seem bothered by it. “Do you mind?” he gestures to his soaking wet uniform.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” she says, pinching her fingers together and drawing them back, pulling the water from his clothes and sending it back into the water bucket in the corner.

“Thanks.”

“Same time tomorrow,” Lydia tells them, brushing past the two-year champions like they were nothing on her way out the door. Stiles would always admire her nerve. 

“Shall we?” Stiles asks Allison, holding out his arm. It was more for solidarity then anything else, because Derek Hale is looking at them like if they didn’t get out of his training space in the next ten seconds, he was going to start fire-breathing them.

“We shall,” Allison replies playfully, linking their arms together and walking out with him. Stiles tries to pretend like he can’t feel McCall’s eyes on them all the way down the hall, but he isn’t sure how good a job he does.

They make it all the way to the street before Stiles let all of his breath out in one whoosh.

“Who was that?” Allison asks as they make their way down the street.

Stiles turns to her, eyes wide. “Who was that? Who was that?! Don’t you know anything about pro-bending?”

Allison shrugs prettily, flicking her hair behind her ears with one hand. 

“I always forget how new you are, country girl.” Stiles grins, throwing an arm around her shoulder and using it to lead her down the street. “That was the Alphas. They won the last two years and they’re probably going to be our number one competition.”

“If we get that far,” she replies somberly. Stiles gives her a little shake.

“Come on. We both know that Lydia won’t let us get anything less than second place.”

Allison laughs. “I guess that is true.”

“Seriously, don’t you know anything about the pro-bending world?”

“Nothing that isn’t fifteen years old. Not much pro-bending in the North Pole.”

Stiles makes a face. “Yelch. Aren’t you glad you escaped?” 

Allison shoves him playfully. “You haven’t even been there!”

“And I never will be. Is there even any dirt there?”

“Isn’t that best part?” she retorts. 

Stiles tugs her hair playfully. “Alright, country girl? Are you going to come get some end-of-practice soup with me today? Seeing as how our fearless leader has vanished.”

“I can’t,” Allison says regretfully. “My aunt Kate is in town and I want to visit her more.”

“Oh, the famous Aunt Kate,” Stiles replies. “The sole voice of wisdom in your family. When do I get to meet her?”

“Maybe she’ll come by the next practice. She could give Lydia a few tips.”

Stiles makes a face. “Maybe not.”

Allison laughs. “You’re probably right. I guess you’ll see her when you see her.”

“I look forward to it,” Stiles replies, slowing as they reach the street where Allison would need to turn to get to the higher end district she lived in.

“See you tomorrow,” Allison says cheerfully. “Tell Danny hi for me!”

“Will do!” Stiles calls to her retreating back. When she turns away, he kicks out a foot playfully, sending a shoot of dirt out to catch her beneath her feet and send her zooming forward to the end of the next block.

“Stiles!” she shrieks, waving her arms around for balance and almost falling.

“Have a nice night!” he calls after her, slowing her down to a stop at the next intersection and waving cheerfully when she turned back to glare at him.

\--

The noodle shop is almost completely deserted when Stiles pushes through the front door, but Danny is hunched over the counter as usual, and he looks up when Stiles pushes the door open.

“Hey, Danny,” Stiles says casually, dropping into one of the bar stools at the front.

“Hey, Stiles. The usual?” 

Stiles fishes a couple coins from the bottom of his pocket and laid them down. “Yes, please.”

“Where are your girls?”

Stiles laughs. “You know that Lydia would kill us both if she heard that.”

Danny grins. “Yeah, probably.” He moves around behind the bar, ladling out noodles into the strong lined paper boxes they used for take-out orders. “But that doesn’t tell me where they are.”

“Allison had to go home to see family, and Lydia had to go be mysterious.” 

“As usual,” Danny agees. 

“Of course. Hey, you’ll never guess who I ran into at the Arena today.”

“Who?”

“The Alpha’s. They had the practice spot after us booked.” 

Danny slows for a split second, quick enough that Stiles would have missed it if he weren’t paying attention. “Oh, yeah? Did they say anything to you.”

“Nothing nice. It was all ‘get out of our practice area,’ and ‘what’s taking so long?’ Would it kill them to be nice? We’re pro-benders too.”

Danny laughs. “You’re amateurs, Stiles. No one’s even heard of you yet.”

“Yet is the key word, my friend,” Stiles says cheerfully. “Our first match is next week. You’re coming, right?”

Danny gives him a warm smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“It’ll be weird not sitting with you,” Stiles says.

“It’ll be weirder for me, sitting with your dad and watching you fight,” Danny replies, putting the three boxes into a paper bag and handing it over the counter.

Stiles makes a face. “Don’t remind me. You’ll cheer for me though, right?”

“Like your dad would let me do anything else.”

“Good point,” Stiles laughs, reaching out to take the bag. “I’ll see you around, Danny.”

“Night, Stiles.”

Stiles tosses a wave over his shoulder as he heads out. He whistles jauntily as he crosses the street, ignoring old Mrs. Hannigan as she tells him to pipe down. 

He has to juggle a bit when he gets out his keys so that he doesn’t drop his helmet or the noodles, but he makes it through the door and up the stairs without incident. 

He can hear Malcolm barking when he approaches his apartment door, probably annoying Mrs. Hannigan some more. Good.

When he gets through the door, Malcolm runs at him, battering into his legs and almost knocking Stiles over. 

“Sit,” Stiles tries hopefully. Malcolm does no such thing, but then, he only listens to Stiles one time out of five. It feels like walking through a current with Malcolm running through and over his legs as Stiles walks to the small kitchen. 

He drops the bag and his helmet on the counter and bends over to give Malcolm’s ears a scratch. Malcolm butts his head against Stiles’ leg again, his small horns smashing against the bones. 

Stiles rolls his eyes and obediently scratches the base of the horns. Obligingly, Malcolm sits and cocks his head, permitting greater access. 

“You are spoiled, mister,” Stiles tells Malcolm seriously. “I bet no other goat dog is this well treated, not in all of Republic City.” Malcolm bleats somberly. Stiles rolls his eyes and rises to his feet.

“Dad?” Stiles calls. “Food’s here.”

His dad sticks his out of the far bedroom. “Noodles?” 

Stiles holds up the bag wordlessly and his dad grins, heading into the kitchen.

“How was practice?” he asks as he takes a seat at the table, spooning noodles into his bowl.

Stiles makes a face. “Hard. Lydia is brutal.”

“Keep working, son.” His dad points his spoon at Stiles. “If you keep working like this, you might be able to metal-bend like your mother.”

Stiles snorted into his noodles. “Yeah, right. Mom was an amazing earth-bender. I’m average at best.”

When he looks up, his father is giving him a warm look. “You’re more like her than you think.”

Stiles flushes and ducks his head, changing the topic to what his father had done at work.

\--

“Stiles!” Lydia barks. “Kick higher!”

“It isn’t about height, Lydia!” Stiles snaps back. “It isn’t firebending.” He’s breathing hard, practicing the jab kick combos to send the hard packed disks into the net at the end of the hall. 

“Faster!” Lydia shouts. Frustrated, Stiles whips around and kicks out to send a disk whinging toward Lydia’s head. Before she has time to block it, he crushes his fist in front of him, turning the disk into a fine dust that coats Lydia from head to toe. 

“Fast enough?” Stiles asks sweetly. 

Lydia makes a face. “Getting better.”

“Better, my ass,” Stiles mutters. “That was awesome.”

He goes back to practicing the different punches while Lydia calls Allison over for a one on one spar. He’s feeling pretty good about his moves so far so he tries one of the moves he’d seen his mom use years ago.

He braces himself firmly on the ground and leaps, kicking out with both feet and sending almost the entire stack of disks hurling into the ceiling above the net. 

He tries to twist midair, but is too slow, landing on his back with a crash.

“Are you alright?” Allison asks, rushing to his side, water already glowing softly around her palm.

Stiles waves her off. “Fine. I’m fine,” he groans, putting a hand to his back as he tries to stand. Allison grabs his arm and helps to pull him up.

“What did I say about practicing new moves?” Lydia asks, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Only if they work?” Stiles tries, giving her a winning smile. 

Lydia snorts, but her face softens. “Seriously though, you’re alright?”

“Please. I’ve gotten hurt worse walking Malcolm.”

“That thing is a menace,” Lydia grumbles. 

“Isn’t he great?” Stiles beams.

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Back to training. Let’s try two on one. Stiles, you and me against Allison.”

Stiles raises a questioning eyebrow at Allison and she nods, raising her fists in a ready stance. 

They go through all possible combinations, five minute matches of two-on-one. 

Lydia gathers them at the end of practice to give her usual notes. “Allison, be a bit faster and work on your aim. Stiles, stop showing off and just use the disks. Both of you try to remember that less is more. Don’t exhaust yourself with flashy moves when all you need is one blow.”

“You need to work on your defense,” Stiles says when she pauses for breath. Lydia glares at him and Stiles shrugs. “Well, you do. You’re only ever on the attack.”

“A strong offence is a good defence,” Lydia sniffs.

“Unless the two of us get knocked out and you’re on your own,” Allison points out.

“I’ll take it under consideration,” Lydia concedes.

Stiles rolls his eyes at Allison, who grins back.

“The practice room is booked for the entire weekend. No surprise, since the first matches begin Monday.”

“Weekend off?” Stiles asks hopefully.

Lydia gives him a look that could cut through paper. “No. Don’t be ridiculous. Our first match is on Tuesday and we need the practice. No, we will meet in the woods tomorrow at 10 am.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Stiles throws his hands in the air. “It’s like a three hour walk to the woods!”

“Then leave early,” Lydia says unforgivingly.

“I can give you a ride, Stiles,” Allison offers. Of course, the Argents are wealthy enough to have a Sato-mobile. Sometimes Stiles forgets that sweet, modest Allison lives in one of the wealthiest parts of Republic City.

“That’d be great,” he says.

“Good?” Lydia asks. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

\--

Allison knocks on Stiles’ door at 9 am exactly. Stiles is still struggling to put Malcolm on a leash for his morning walk, so his dad goes to answer.

“You must be Ms. Argent.” Stiles hears, followed by Allison’s polite reply. 

“Ha!” Stiles says triumphantly when he finally gets his stubborn pet to take the leash. He has to practically drag the stupid thing to the door, since Malcolm refuses to pick his obstinate little butt off the ground, but Stiles manages.

“Hey, Allison!” Stiles says cheerfully. “Have you met Malcolm yet?”

Allison gives his goat-dog a suspicious look. “You aren’t bringing him with us, are you?”

“Not today, sadly. Bending doesn’t agree with him.” Stiles crouches down next to Malcolm and scratches his ears. “Does it, boy?”

Allison rolls her eyes. “Let’s go, Stiles. Lydia will kill us if we’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles grumbles, passing off the leash to his dad.

Allison’s sato-mobile is an old model, but it’s still more than anything Stiles and his dad could afford.

“You know how to drive this thing?” Stiles asks, eyeing the satop-mobile with trepidation. 

“It’ll be fine,” Allison promises, which is so not a yes.

“Do they even have sato-mobiles in the North Pole?” Stiles demands as he climbs in and closes the door behind him.

The engine makes a noise like a saber-tooth moose lion when it starts up and Stiles grabs onto the handle next to the door reflexively. 

Allison just laughs, tearing off down his street like the whole fire nation army is behind her. Which, yeah, OK, Stiles’ dad would probably chastise him for that because 80 years of peace and whatever, but it’s just a figure of speech. Stiles is all for cultural sensitivity, blah, blah, blah, but 100 years of expressions aren’t going to go away overnight.

Besides, he hasn’t met a fire-bender who doesn’t scare him. Just look at Lydia. 

\--

The terrifying firebender in question is waiting for them with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re late,” she says.

Stiles rolls his eyes as he jumps out of the sato-mobile. “Yeah, by like two minutes.”

“Don’t make excuses,” Lydia snaps. “Follow me, I found a place by some water for us to practice.”

Allison parks the sato-mobile carefully before she gets out. Lydia leads them through the forest like a woman on a mission. Stiles follows her at a more sedate pace, enjoying the feel of real ground beneath his feet. He’d left his shoes in the back of the sato-mobile and he can distantly feel the vibrations of animals moving. 

He used to come out to the forest with his mother, when she was teaching him earthbending. He’s forgotten the soothing, open feeling of solid ground all around him, all of it available to him, singing to him. 

Up ahead of him, Allison gasps. “Lydia, this is amazing!”

Stiles rounds the final bend in the trees separating him from the girls and has to admit that Allison has a point. Lydia had brought them to a wide, open clearing on the edge of a wide, clear lake.

It’s a perfect area to train in, wide enough that Lydia won’t burn the forest down, enough water for Allison and enough exposed dirt that Stiles won’t feel bad about killing all the local plant life. Bending can be destructive and dangerous if a bender isn’t careful.

“WATER BENDING BOMB!!” Allison yells, making Stiles jump about a foot. He has barely enough time to see her running past him before she hits the water. Stiles stares in horror as a wave of water almost ten feet tall marks her point of entry and comes rushing towards him.

Stiles stomps his feet , letting them sink into the dirt before he lets it harden enough to hold him in place without snapping his legs. 

The water crests over him with a cool shock, soaking him from head to toe before it settles into a low receding tide around his ankles. 

Allison breaks free of the water with a wild laugh. Stiles glance over to see Lydia, who is literally steaming, the water drying off of her in whips as she heats her entire body.

“Allison!” she yells. Stiles carefully extracts himself from the dirt.

Allison just ducks under-water to swim closer to the shore. She comes up again three feet from the shore, shaking herself dry and peeling away water like layers of clothes. By the time she’s on land again, she’s completely dry. 

“This isn’t time to play around!” Lydia snaps. 

“Oh, come on, it’s just a bit of fun,” Stiles protests. “Allison, you mind giving a guy a hand?”

Allison grins and starts pulling the water out of his clothes as Lydia rounds on him. “We have two days until our first match! We need to be focused on practicing our bending.”

“Technically, that was practicing,” Allison replies cheerfully.

Lydia makes a disgruntled face, unwilling to concede the point. “Let’s just get started.”

The thing is, earthbending in the arena is nothing like earth-bending in the real world, and Stiles is having a hard time limiting himself to the little disks he worked up to fight with. 

It would just be so easy to grab the ground beneath Lydia and pull it away, or to raise walls in front of Allison, boxing her in. Worst of all, he has to shut out the extra sensory input from the ground beneath him because the solid, fake floor of the arena doesn’t reverberate movements to him like hard packed dirt does.

The third time he pulls a move that isn’t possible, much less legal, inside the arena, Lydia calls a halt to the proceedings.

“Stop showing off and practice like a pro-bender, Stiles!”

“I’m an earthbender, too,” Stiles protests.

“Well, right now you’re a pro-bender first and an earthbender second, so start acting like it.”

Stiles frowns slightly, his attention pulled away from her. He can feel vibrations deep in the earth, a steady rumble that has nothing to with animals.

“Lydia, shut up for a second.”

“Excuse me?” she demands angrily.

“No, hush. There’s something going on.” He closes his eyes and tries to slip further into the tricks his mom had taught him. He stomps his left foot hard, feeling the reverberations in the earth, spreading out further and further before they start interacting with the vibrations caused by other things. Other people.

“There’s some sort of gathering,” he says. “Over that way.” he points through the trees. Lydia frowns over her shoulder.

“Do you think they’re here to spy on us?” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Yes, Lydia. They’ve snuck into the forest to steal our coveted bending secrets and the ways of the waterbending bomb.”

“Let’s go check it out!” Allison says enthusiastically.

“My thoughts exactly,” Stiles agrees.

Lydia frowns, looking disapproving. “What about practice?”

“It’s been two hours, Lydia. We’re done. We’re practiced out. We’re going to check this out.”

Lydia makes a disapproving noise, but she follows them without more complaint.

Stiles stops them at the top of a ridge that overlooks whatever the gathering is. It’s close enough that they can see and hear, but it’s unlikely that anyone below will see them.

“It looks like a rally,” Allison whispers.

“Yeah, but for what?” Stiles agrees.

“I think I can guess.” Lydia points at a large sign that’s been erected by what Stiles recognises as the front. It reads “DOWN WITH THE TYRANNICAL BENDING SYSTEM!” while another beside it reads “EQUALITY NOW!”

“Equalists,” Lydia scoffs, disgust in her voice. “There’s nothing wrong with the system we have now.”

Stiles stays quiet. That may be true for Lydia, the firebending prodigy of a long line of rich, powerful firebenders. Or even for Allison, whose family had been close to royalty in the Northern Water Tribe. But Stiles is the son of a poor nonbending law enforcer who did twice work the metalbending police officers did for a quarter of the pay.

“For too long,” the man in the front is saying “the nonbending people of Republic City, and of all four nations, have been repressed by their bending peers! They think they’re better then we are! Stronger! More entitled to the better jobs and better houses!”

“We are,” Lydia mutters, and Stiles elbows her hard in the ribs. 

“Well, I say ‘No more!’” the man exclaims. “We are on the brink of a new era my friends, one where equality, and not bending, will rule supreme!”

“This is such bullshit,” Lydia says angrily. Stiles’ lips tighten but he’s not about to get into an argument with her here. 

“Let’s just go,” he says instead, inching his way back along the ridge and pulling her behind him.

Allison follows, frowning slightly.

“I mean, who do they think they are?” Lydia says hotly, as soon as they’re out of earshot. “Being able to bend is just amazing! It’s the benders who take care of things, who look after them and the city!”

“Hey!” Stiles protests. “My dad looks after the city just fine, thank you.”

Lydia makes a noise that’s just short of rude, and Stiles scowls at her.

“Look, it’s just people trying to make trouble,” Allison cuts in, trying to soothe them. ‘It’ll all sort itself out, ok?”

Lydia tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Right. And we have a match to prepare for.” She starts going into detail about the rest of their schedule until the match, but Stiles just stares at the ground. Allison might think this is a problem that will blow over, but Stiles wasn’t so sure.


	2. Chapter 2

Because Lydia is Lydia, and thus insane, they get to the arena three hours before their match to watch all of the preceding matches. 

Despite the fact that Stiles has always loved pro-bending, has been watching matches since he was old enough to walk, this isn’t how he wants to spend the hours before his first professional match.

They’re the rookies this year, the only team on the docket who doesn’t have a single member on the team who’s competed at this level before, so they get the pleasure of going last. 

Lydia takes careful notes on all the teams preceding them, no doubt writing down scary things like every single strength and weakness of their opponents. 

The Alphas, as the returning champions, are in the direct middle of the line-up for the night. Scott isn’t as good as their last waterbender, but he does alright. Derek Hale is in his usual impressive form, firing blows left and right and always managing to avoid getting hit himself. 

Jackson Whittemore is his usual powerhouse of earthbending might, fierce and unrelenting in his offence. He’s so busy being offence, in fact, that the opposing team’s water bender gets him with a blast to the face and lands him straight in the drink. Stiles gets a perverse sense of pleasure from watching him splutter in the water. 

Still, the Alpha’s manage to win their match pretty quickly, and that was the team Stiles was most interested in. He watches the others with a mix of professional interest and unproffesional joy. There’s something so alive about pro-bending--the energy of the crowd, the thrum of bending, the heat of the fire, the cool rush of the water and the ever steady call of the earth.

Before he know’s it, they’re three matches out and they have to head down to the training room. The pass the Alpha’s, clearly on their way out for the night and apparently unconcerned with the competition. 

“Good luck!” Scott McCall says cheerfully. It’s clearly directed at Allison, but she’s hardly paying attention to anything, and Stiles knows her well enough to guess that she’s running through waterbending stances in her head.

He gives Scott a smile instead. “Thanks, dude. Good match today!” He nobley avoids smirking at the still soaking Jackson. Jackson, it seems is not on as good terms with his waterbender as Stiles is with his own, if Scott didn’t offer to dry him off.

“Thanks!” Scott replies. “I’m gonna stick around to see you guys.”

“Really?” Scott asks, surprised. 

“Stiles, come on!” Lydia calls before Scott can answer. Stiles gives Scott an apologetic shrug and runs off after his team.

He loses time in the preparation, fighting down his nerves and miming earth punches into the air, and then they’re in the arena. 

He can hear the roar of the crowd, but he can’t see any faces. His dad would be there, he was sure, but he would have liked to see him. 

Then the referee is blowing his whistle and he doesn’t have time to think about it.

Their opponents, the East Village Boarquepines, start strong. Stiles grins, broad and exhilarated. They could have benefited from some of Lydia’s teaching.

He dodges a plume of water easily, and redirects a disk that was headed for Allison. Redirects are tricky, and most earthbenders in the professional circuit prefer to block instead. Lydia had encouraged both of them to do the unexpected whenever possible, to catch people off-guard.

He can hear the announcer making the routine comments, the rookie team, their first pro match, and then Lydia shoots a fire blast that knocks the Boarquepine’s earthbender back into the second circle. 

The crowd roars, and not just for the technique. 

“Blue fire!” The announcer exclaims. “I don’t think we’ve seen blue flames since the Firelord Ursa stopped by Republic City. That was from Dancing Dragons firebender, Lydia Martin, and I think we have a player to watch out for!”

Stiles grins, because that’s an understatement if he’s ever heard one. He almost gets his head taken out by a fireblast for his distraction, and only his fast reflexes keep from from being knocked out himself. 

Allison brings a shoot up and under the firebender, knocking him back to his earthbending partner. Stiles takes advantage of the moment to send a quick one-two blow to the Boarquepine’s waterbender and it catches him in the stomach. He tumbles into a backwards roll, crossing the section two line.

The whistle blows and the Dancing Dragons advance into the other team’s area. With some of Lydia’s more intense strategies, they could probably knock all three of these guys into the drink, but Lydia had made it clear. Tonight, there would be no fancy tricks, no showing off. Nothing to show that they were any better than the average pro-bending teams.

Stiles falls back to strictly defence, making sure that his teammates are free for the offence. Lydia knocks the Boarquepine’s firebender into the drink before the whistle blows again. First round goes to them.

Both teams returned to the center line. Lydia positioned herself in the middle and makes a couple of quick gestures with her hands. Stiles almost groans aloud. She wants them to throw round two. 

It’s a risk, because there isn’t a guarantee they’ll win the third and final round, but apparently it was a risk that she deemed worth it. 

Underestimation is the name of the game with Lydia and Stiles seriously hates it sometimes. He’s all go-go-go all the time. He’s good and people should know that, but Lydia likes things in the shadows.

She was like a singing gophermole, you think the ground is empty and smooth, but you hit the right notes and you were in for a world of surprises. 

There are rules for throwing a round. Don’t end up in the drink, don’t let it be too easy and under no circumstances let them get a knockout. A knockout would mean an instant win to the opposing team and there was a big difference between underestimated and out of the running. 

The whistle blows the start and Stiles ducks under a blast of fire. Even with the intention to throw, Allison knocks the Boarquepine’s firebender back into second ring. A minute later, Stiles takes a disk to the stomach and rolls with it, letting the momentium carry him back into the second ring on their own side. 

The Boarquepine’s apparently decide that Lydia, with her blue flames and powerful punches, in the biggest threat and unleash a tripronged attack on her.

Stiles runs interference with hs earth disk, while Allison concentrates on the offence. Still, the unending onslaught knocks Lydia back into the third ring. She turns it into a roll last minute and only barely avoids the drink herself. 

It’s all Allison in the first ring, and she’s fighting for it. Eventually, the Boarquepine’s knock her back, and she almost smashes straight into Stiles with her momentum. He steadies her and they ready themselves as the Boarquepine’s advance into their territory.

Allison gets knocked back with Lydia before the whistle blows again. Second round to the East Village Boarquepines. Next round, winner takes all.

The thing about the Boarquepine’s that Stiles is starting to realize is that they don’t have much strategy. It’s all about the punches and the blasts and hoping it connected. They hadn’t made it far the last year either, if he recalls correctly. 

Stiles gets a quick disk punch out almost a split second after the whistle blows, and while it clips the firebender’s shoulder, it doesn’t send him back at all. Lydia, always on the ball, follows it up with a fireblow that does the trick. It catches him off balance and he falls back.

Allison catches a disk directed at Stiles with a low wave and sends this disk back with a twist. It hits their eathbender in the jaw and Stiles whoops. 

Well, okay, that was pretty stupid on his part. A fireblast catches him by surprise and he has to dodge to avoid it, still feeling the heat of it against his face. He doesn’t have time to catch his footing before a water blast nails him in the stomach.

He’s airborn, and he has time to think that Lydia is going to kill him before he lands in the drink with a splash.

He pushes his way to the surface and shakes the water from his eyes. He knows his girls, they can handle the match without him. Sure enough, he’s only just begun to pull himself up to the side when the whistle blows. Victory goes to the Dancing Dragons.

Stiles whoops and punches the air, and the crowd roars.

“This is team with real moxie, folks!” the announcer yells. “You’ll want to keep your eyes on the Dancing Dragons in the future.”

Stiles flops onto his back and grins up at the ceiling. 

\--

Unsurprisingly, his dad and Danny are waiting for them outside. The surprising part is Scott McCall.

“You guys were great!” he says enthusiastically, bouncing on his toes. He’s looking at Allison, who ducks her head and smiles. 

Stiles stifles a laugh and lets his dad pull him into a hug. He sees Lydia getting a hug from her mom and he’s glad that she was able to make it. Lydia had been worried. 

However, when Stiles pulls free from his dad, he doesn’t see anyone from Allison’s family. He sidles up to her and nudges her with his shoulder. 

“Victory noodles?” he offers, jerking his head at his family. Then, because Scott is still standing there, looking shy and awkward and pretty pitiful for a probender, Stiles adds, “You can come too, bro.”

Scott beams at him. He’s like an overgrown puppy. Stiles stifles the urge to feed him. 

Allison bites her lip, looking hesitant. 

“Come on,” Stiles wheedles, “it’s out first victory!” 

“Oh, alright,” she relents. Stiles proffers his arm and she takes it, grinning. 

“Yo, Lydia!” Stiles yells. She turns enough to glare at him. He jerks his head at himself and the others. “Victory noodle time, let’s go.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, but she says something to her mom, who smiles and nods, then comes to join him.

“I can’t believe I’m coming,” she says.

“It’s the Stilinski charm,” Stiles says confidently. “It’s winning you over.”

Lydia makes a face at him, but she takes his arm when he offers it. 

\--

Dinner is fun and loud and perfect. It’s all of Stiles’ favourite people together. And Scott, but he proves to be somewhat less awkward once they start including him. He’s clearly majorly crushing on Allison, but he’s not a jerk about it, so that’s ok.

He and Stiles actually hit it off pretty well, so the times that Scott isn’t trying to impress Allison, he’s chatting to Stiles. 

Stiles’ dad begs out early, wishing Stiles another round of congratulations, like Stiles won’t see him when he gets him. Stiles doesn’t blame him, fatherly pride will only carry you so far into a meal with a bunch of rowdy teenagers. 

Lydia’s the next to leave, citing family obligations. Danny stays a bit longer, but he has a late shift that night, so he ends up having to leave as well.

It becomes pretty obvious that Scott doesn’t want to leave before Allison does, and Stiles is impressed with her for not being the least bit freaked out by it. Stiles suspects that it’s Scott’s boyish charms. 

“If you want to get in some waterbending practice, I could help you,” he offers when Allison starts making noises about heading home herself. “I could maybe show you a move or two?” He phrases it like a question and Allison smiles. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she says softly. “I’ll see you around, then.”

Scott gives Stiles a victory smile, like Stiles is his ally in this campaign for Allison’s affections. Stiles smiles back, mostly because it would make it super awkward if he didn’t.

To his surprise, when they split off Scott is heading in the same direction as Stiles. Stiles had kind of assumed that Scott would be up there with the other Northern Tribe waterbenders, up towards the higher end of town. 

“My family is from the Southern tribe,” Scott offers, correctly interpreting Stiles’ expression. Stiles nods. He didn’t know much about Water Nation politics, but he did know that most of the Northern Tribe people looked down on the less cultured Southern Tribe.

“So, are you going to offer any of the rest of us a chance to practice against a waterbender?” He’s teasing, but he suspects that Scott won’t mind.

Scott gives him a sheepish grin. “You know how it is, man.” 

Stiles sighs. “That I do, my friend. That I do.”

\--

Stiles shouldn’t be surprised when Scott shows up to their practice the next day, but he is. He’s even more surprised when Lydia lets him stay.

Scott gives Stiles a friendly smile and a wave, but heads back to where Allison is working with the buckets of water in the corner.

Stiles doesn’t stop to watch, mostly because Lydia is giving him the dirty eye, silently telling him that if he stops practicing, he gets a fire blast to the face.

He sends the disks into the net, one-two punches and follow up kicks that, while not earning him praise, at least don’t get a derisive comment from training dictator Lydia.

Distantly, he hears Scott offer to show Allison one of his moves and Stiles has to duck his head to hide a grin. Apparently, he doesn’t duck fast enough.

“If you have time to be laughing, you’re not working hard enough!” Lydia snaps.

Stiles groans. “Oh my god, Lydia, if I work any harder, my arms will actually fall off!”

“Do another 25 cross punches and upper cuts,” Lydia replies mercilessly. Stiles imagines her head in the middle of the net and flicks the disks out with quick fists.

“It’s called a water wheel,” Scott is saying from the corner, and Stiles abandons his sulky disk throwing, because no way is he missing this. To be fair though, Lydia has stopped her own fire squats and is watching the two waterbenders as well.

Scott, apparently oblivious to the fact that Allison is one of the top waterbenders from the Northern Water Tribe, is earnestly demonstrating how to do a water wheel. He is, at least, pretty good at it 

Allison falls naturally into the ready stance, raising her arms. “So, like this?” she asks demurely, mimicking Scott’s movements exactly.

Water jettisons from both the buckets, spinning together in front of her, a dangerous, four foot pinwheel that consumes the smaller wheel Scott had been maintaining and leaves Scott dripping from head to toe.

Stiles can’t contain his laughter at the dumbfounded look of astonishment on Scott’s face.

Allison looks over at him with exaggerated concern on her face. “So, was that right?”

Laughter from the doorway makes Stiles look over. The rest of Scott’s team is standing there, laughing. 

Stiles’ eyes catch on the way Derek’s head is thrown back in amusement, making him look younger and so much more approachable. He looks away.

Scott laughs ruefully and Stiles respect for him go up, because not everyone would take it that well.

“I guess that will teach me to underestimate you,” he says, bending the water out of his clothes. Allison grins at him and starts helping, letting the water settle back into their buckets.

“Back to work, Stiles,” Lydia calls, and he rolls his eyes. Instead of more disks, he grabs one of the bending weights that rests against the wall, and settles himself in to lift it. He carefully doesn’t touch it with his hands, but works the barbells up and down.

It’s one of the harder things for him, dealing with heavily weighted dirt. He’s all about using what he has instead of brute strength, and Lydia had decided that was no longer enough.

He can feel the stretch in both his physical muscles and in his mind, feel sweat breaking out along his brow and thinks maybe he should have started with a lighter weight. 

“What can I help you gentleman with?” Lydia asks, all silk over steel and perfectly poised.

“We were looking for our water bender,” Derek replies, and Stiles angles his head so that he can watch the conversation.

“We’re not keeping him here.” Lydia crosses her arms over her chest like she’s expecting a fight and Stiles rolls his eyes because not everything needs to be conflict.

“Come on, Scott- we need to train as a group,” Derek calls and Stiles can see Scott’s crestfallen expression from here and he has to stifle a grin.

“Don’t worry- mine’s a dictator too,” Stiles whispers as Scott passes. Scott gives him a small smile.

“I’ll see you around?” Scott asks, eyes flicking to Allison like he can’t help himself.

Stiles coughs to stop himself laughing. “Yeah, man. We’ll be around.”

Scott heads out with his team and Stiles tries to pretend like he’s not watching them leave. 

\--

Stiles sometimes forgets, in this haze of bending practice and competitions, that real life actually exists and that things are still happening in it. 

He knows, distantly, how bad the anti-bending movement is getting, and how badly the government is responding, but truth be told it doesn’t cross his mind very often. 

It occurs to him later that his dad was probably trying to keep it from him, to protect him. 

Nevertheless, Stiles ends up walking into a large Equalist protest outside of the arena where they were practicing. There are signs in his face and people are yelling and Stiles is pretty sure he’s never oppressed anyone in his life but that doesn't matter to them, because he can Bend and they can’t.

Stiles knows, he just knows, that the worst thing to do right now would be to earthbend his way out of this. He puts his hands up, open and peaceful, and tries to sidle sideways. The press of the crowd, their anger and their resentment is almost overwhelming, until he just wants to sink into the earth and tunnel away like he used to do when he was a kid.

He hears the buzz of zeppelins and the metalic shing of the metal-benders ropes and he has a moment to be relieved, that they can quiet this mob. Then all relief dissipates, because the metalbending police force aren’t trying to quiet at all.

They’s lashing at people with metal ropes, innocent people who were only making noise, driving them back, and Stiles is forced along with the crowd.

“Get back,” the voices call from inside the masks, tinny and hollow. 

The crowd isn’t just angry anymore, but scared- their fears of bender oppression happening before their eyes as the metal ropes force them inwards.

“You will return to your houses. Should you continue your efforts to disturb the peace, you will be arrested by the metalbending police-force and taken in for questioning.”

Stile frowns, because that’s not how it works- the metalbenders are for criminals, for people who are dangerous. The non-bender police like his father usually handle things like civil disturbances and nonviolent crimes.

“We have a right to be heard!” One woman yells, and gets a lash across her cheek for her trouble.

The crowd surges forward, angry again, pushing up against the barriers of rock the police have made to keep them separate. There are whistles blowing and everyone is yelling and Stiles is just trying to keep himself from being trampled. 

He digs his feet into the ground, sinking deep so that the crowd only pushes around him, and when there’s enough room to move, he slips away, back towards home. He hates that he was such a coward, that he didn’t stand up for himself, for anyone.

The truth is, he doesn't know who’s right, because the Equalists are terrorising people and forming riots and mobs against even the innocent benders, but the Council of Nations isn’t helping. They make more rules to hem in the non-benders, lumping them all in with the Equalists and giving everyone more reasons to hate them.

It’s terrible and wrong and Stiles doesn’t know how he can help.

\--

There’s a long standing rule of no bending in the house, ever since the first time Stiles ripped up the ground under the hardwood floors by mistake, by when he gets home he needs the steady control of the earth to settle him. 

He keeps a jar of hard packed dirt in his room, and he takes it out now and practices moving the earth in slow steady movements. It’s a different kind of control, and harder because of it. It’s more like a waterbender would more than an earthbender, but it’s all about focus and concentration and it’s what he needs.

Stiles startles at the sound of the door opening, but he doesn’t drop any of the dirt. He lets it shift back into the jar and packing it down tight before he goes to great his father at the door.

He has to stifle a gasp at the sight of his dad’s face, bruised and tight with exhaustion. There’s a cut over his eye bleeding sluggishly and when he turns his gaze to Stiles, he seems to have trouble focusing. His left arm is held close to his body and bent at a weird angle.

Stiles rushes forward to guide him down into a chair, helping him sit. He grabs a small towel and gently dabs the blood off of his father’s face, but more oozes out slowly.

“Are you ok?” Stiles asks as he works. “Talk to me. What happened?”

“Stiles?” his dad sounds dazed and confused and Stiles is more and more certain that he has a concussion or worse.

He finished getting most of the blood and dirt off of his dad’s face, then moves directly into his line of sight.

“Dad. I’m going to run out for a minute, but I’ll be right back. Do you understand?” He waits until his dad nods before he stands, rushing out of the apartment to one of the stands down the street.

Their family isn’t wealthy enough for one of the new phone devices, but he knows that Allison’s is. He dials the number she gave him carefully, agonising over the terrible slowness of the dial as the rotary spins back into place so he can dial the next number.

His hands are shaking when he holds the receiver to his head, listening to the steady rings through the lines and wires that will hopefully connect him to Allison. Except that the rings aren’t stopping. It just keeps ringing, on and on until he has to put the phone down again because his coins have run out.

There aren’t any other benders here, not in this area, and he can’t walk to Allison’s in time, not unless he wants to leave his Dad alone longer than he’s comfortable with.

There’s a triple threat gang up the street, but he wouldn’t trust them anywhere near his dad, even if those thugs ever bothered to learn even basic healing. 

He scrambles for idea, because he doesn’t want to leave his father alone for much longer, but they need a healer. Finally, his scattered mind remembers Scott, who lives fairly close to here. There’s no guarantee that Scott knows anymore healing that Stiles does, but it’s worth a shot. A the very least, Scott might know another waterbender who could help.

He’s racing off before he can stop to think it through, unconsciously pushing himself along against the ground beneath him, faster than he could ever have run normally. 

He almost races right past Scott’s house, he’s only seen it once before. Stiles pounds on the door, unrelenting until it’s pulled open forcefully. Stiles almost knocks Jackson on the face before he pulls back, ignoring Jackson’s glare.

“Is Scott here?” he demands, peering past Jackson into the dark hallway.

“McCall, it’s for you!” Jackson yells over his shoulder, not stepping out of the doorway.

“Yeah, it’s my house,” Scott says, coming up behind Jackson with a confused expression. Stiles can see Derek lurking in the shadows deeper down the hall. “Stiles?”

“Can you heal?” Stiles asks without preamble.

“What?”

“Healing, magic water, the things waterbenders do, can you?”

“I, yes?” Scott replies.

“Great- come with me. I need your help!” He pushes past Jackson through sheer force of will and grabs Scott’s arm, dragging the waterbender behind him.

“Hey, wait- we’re having a team meeting and-”

“I don’t fucking care,” Stiles growls. “I need your help,” he falters. “Please.”

Scott glances back to Derek, then looks to Stiles again. “Alright. Let me just get some of my water.” He rushes back into the house, leaving Stiles alone with Jackson and Derek.

Derek approaches slowly, and Jackson just stands with his arms crossed, looking grumpy.

“What happened?” Derek asks, reaching out with one hand to brush across Stiles jaw.

Stiles flinches back, surprised when the contact hurts. 

“What happened?” Derek repeats, and Stiles realises that his face is still bruised and scraped from the riot, from flying elbows and signs that didn’t even matter anymore because his dad was hurt.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles brushes him off. “It’s not the problem. Is Scott almost ready?”

“I’m here,” Scott replies, stepping out from one of the far rooms with a waterskin on his hip. “Let’s go.”

“We’re going too,” Derek says firmly. 

“I don’t think that-” Stiles begins, but one look at Derek’s face convinces his otherwise. It’s not worth the time it would take to argue about it.

His father is still sitting at the table when they get back, but he’s gotten himself a cup of water and is trying in vain to focus on some papers in front of him.

Stiles crouches by his side. “Dad? I brought someone to look at your head, ok.”

His dad waves him off. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Stiles gives him a skeptical look. “Yeah, you look great,” he says sarcastically. “But Scott’s here anyway, he may as well take a look.”

His dad sighs and nods, so Stiles waves Scott over, while Jackson and Derek hover awkwardly in the doorway. They’ve probably never been in an apartment as small as this one before; even Scott’s modest livings eclipse the fantastic Stilinski abode.

Scott crouches down beside Stiles, hand already glowing with the healing infused water. 

“Who are your friends?” Stiles’ dad asks glancing from Scott to Stiles, then to the others.

“I’m Scott,” Scott offers, carefully wielding the water around his dad’s face.

Stiles waits a moment for the others to speak, then says “And that’s Jackson and Derek over there. They’re the Alpha’s.”

“Derek Hale?” His dad asks, and Derek nods. His dad makes a thoughtful noise. “We saw you boys play last year. You were good.”

“Thank you, sir,” Derek says politely.

“Dad,” Stiles says, drawing his attention away. “What happened?”

Scott has moved from the cut on his dad’s face to his broken arm, and his face is tight with concentration.

His dad sighs. “It’s a mess, son.” He lifts his good arm to Stiles’ face, lingering over the same bruise Derek had seen. “But you know that.”

“I was in a riot. By accident,” Stiles explains quickly, because it won’t help his dad to worry.

“It wasn’t the only one.”

“The Equalists did this?” Stiles demands, fists clenching at his side, suddenly furious. His dad isn’t a bender, isn’t involved in their anger or their hate. He’s just like them, just trying to keep the peace in a city trying to shake itself apart.

“A mob did this. There were fighters on both sides. The metalbending police showed up and it just. . . got worse.”

“It’s been getting worse,” Derek adds, moving closer. “Everyday, there’s more protests, more fighting. More hatred.”

Stiles’ dad bows his head. “It’s worse than you know.” Slowly, he raises his head to meet Stiles’ eyes. “They removed every non-bender from the police force today.”

Stiles sucks in a sharp breath, and Scott beside him does that same. Derek makes a low sound in his throat.

“The Council,” Stiles’ dad continues, “says that our loyalties cannot be trusted. From now on, only the metalbending elite will be in charge of crime and, as he put it, controlling the city.”

“Dad. . .” Stiles breathes, shocked. He’d known it was getting bad, on both sides, but this. . . It’s unthinkable.

“This isn’t right,” Derek growls, voice angry. When Stiles glances over at him, his fists are clenched at his sides, sparks of fire flickering between his fingers. “They can’t do this,” he hesitates for a moment, then says “I need to contact my sister.”

He says it with weight, with meaning, and it takes Stiles a minute to remember just who Derek is. He’s not only Derek, firebender, leader of the Alpha’s probending team. He’s Derek Hale, Laura Hale’s brother.

Avatar Laura, who was born in Republic City and has been gone for the past six years as she worked to learn all the elements. If Derek plans to call her back, then he thinks things have escalated past what they can handle. 

The Avatar is coming to Republic City.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll also be posting some sneak-peeks and discussions for the rest of the series on my tumblr. The username is the same, feel free to contact me there.


End file.
